She May Cry
by Ava Cabot
Summary: I wanted to believe that he was doing this for both of us." AU fic, with spoilers for Lowdown. What if everything hadn't turned out okay in the end?


Ava Cabot  
  
She May Cry  
  
A Law and Order: SVU fic  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing. Is. Mine.

----  
  
I see aging as a blessing, not a curse.  
  
Too many women my age blatantly complain that old age is a burden, the entire package coming with wrinkles, white hair, and no sex life. The glittering life of youth and early adulthood is gone, and replacing it the terror that is elderly life.  
  
I would give anything to live a long life, even if my hair grew shock- white, my skin became wrinkled, and my alluring voice became tired with age.  
  
I've been HIV positive for five years, and I still can't face it.  
  
In some ways I'm glad that my mother's been dead for years. She would have been ashamed for me to die of AIDS. In some ways, I'm ashamed of myself for having the disease. People keep telling me not to blame myself, that it wasn't my fault, and me contracting the disease was inevitable.  
  
Their words have continually fallen on deaf ears.  
  
I haven't been out in the field for some time now. Cragen, though pressured to let me go without an explanation, kept me on. Now I ride a desk full- time, while Elliot, John, Fin, and even Cragen catch the bad guys. I've come to accept that new position, at least.  
  
Risking me out in the field would be a liability waiting to shut SVU down, and I wouldn't let anyone risk that. It was just as well that they never gave Elliot a new partner. Cragen goes out with him, and it's as if I've taken a long-time hiatus. But that's not the real case, and that's what hurts me the most.  
  
No, I take that back. What hurts the most is how far apart Elliot's gone from me. Before, we used to be inseparable, the dynamic duo playing a fierce tag-team game in the interrogation room. Now, he squares off with other detectives. I feel as if I've been infected with the plague, the way he avoids me nowadays.  
  
The counseling I've been receiving has helped some. I attend a group therapy session twice a month, and talk to George Huang once a week. Normally, he charges for sessions. In my case, he counsels me without a fee.  
  
Twice a month I re-introduce myself; with the amount of time I've been infected growing with each passing moment. As of right now, I'm Olivia, and I've had HIV for five years, AIDS for the last two.  
  
I still don't get personal in my sessions. While others talk about dealing with their pain, I blank out for an hour. I don't want to talk about how I feel. I don't want to say I'm trying to accept my fate, or that I'm denying that I'll die soon of the disease.  
  
George told me last week that not wanting to open up is normal in my case. Those words ring continually throughout my head, every time I sit through a meeting, drive home, or watch Elliot silently leave every night, his only word to me being a muttered, "Night."  
  
I want to tell Elliot everything that's on my mind. He was my other half, the part that had been missing since I told him the tests came back positive.  
  
Part of me wonders what would have happened if the tests had been negative. Nothing would have changed from before. Instead of doing paperwork at my desk, I'd be out in the field, catching the bad guys at Elliot's side.  
  
But instead I'm stuck in this nightmare of a life, wondering what I did to deserve this curse.  
  
Tonight I spend alone, as usual, in my apartment feeling desolate and miserable. It's nearly midnight, now.  
  
Normally I'd still be at work. But Cragen's overprotective nature has gotten the better if him, and he insists that I'm out of the office before eleven. He doesn't want me to catch a mild illness, like a cold, which would hit me harder because my immune system isn't as strong anymore.  
  
Munch offered to give me a ride home tonight. He hasn't done that in years. The last that happened, Richard White was after my head. That was at least ten years ago.  
  
Now, it seems like I'm permanently in danger.  
  
Casey asked me if I wanted to go for drinks. She's overfriendly as of late, trying subconsciously perhaps to be my friend, in the close way Alex and I were.  
  
I don't expect visitors anymore. It's not like I date, anyways. Sure, many positive people date and even foolishly have sex, in the hope of maintaining a fairly normal life.  
  
Not me.  
  
I've completely dropped out from the dating scene, choosing to spend my days sad and alone. Maybe it's better this way. At least I can't hurt anyone anymore. It plagues me daily how Elliot suffered when I had to quit being his full-time partner. Maybe it would have been easier if I had died already.  
  
At least I wouldn't feel like I was burdening him and everyone else I know. Fin offered to drive me to appointments. Cragen suggested that he attend my therapy sessions, as my surrogate father. George wasn't charging for the private sessions I had with him. Casey was trying to be my new friend. Everything was changing. The one person who I needed most, Elliot, was the farthest away.  
  
Elliot, if you can hear me, I need you.  
  
It's probably ridiculous of me to telepathically call him like that. Maybe it works in the movies, but not in real life.  
  
I wish there was something I could do to escape this life. I often wonder what I could be doing now, if the tests had been negative.  
  
No, I question what I did to be cursed and burdened so. I ask these questions about myself that any terminally ill person wants answers to, answers that are never provided to us.  
  
Us.  
  
Now I am one of them, one of those who will die soon. It doesn't seem fair that I'll be dead soon, dead by a disease that could have been possibly prevented. If I hadn't had sex with Jeff, I wouldn't be faced with this predicament. My life wouldn't seem so doomed. In the beginning, I wanted to push all the blame on him. Now I know better, after placing myself in the guilty area too.  
  
The clock finally chimed midnight. Glancing towards the swinging pendulum in the corner of my living room, I remember with a faint smile that Elliot would be rolling out around now. Normally I'd be there with him, trudging out of the stationhouse exhausted and completely worn-out.  
  
A surge of adrenaline shot through my veins, and I suddenly felt the urge to go down and meet him on the way out. It was something I would have done years ago, when I still taunt the boundaries.  
  
Years ago, when I still worked long hours beside Elliot, I never left without him asking me if I was tired. Then he would suggest we leave. He would help me into my coat, dangle the keys in my face, and offer me, as usual, to drive me home. He said it wasn't safe for me to be alone in New York. He was playing the brave knight, me the damsel in distress. He was the hero in my life, the man that I could never be closer to, and still so far away from.  
  
A daring smile crossed my face, as an even more bold idea swept through my mind. I grabbed my coat, still sitting on the couch from when I arrived home hours ago. It was time for me to do something, finally, about my problems.  
  
I was going to see Elliot.

---  
  
The first thing I noticed when my cab sped away, was how much I missed putting long hours at the stationhouse. I hadn't been keeping my "normal hours" for nearly five years, and my body seemed too bored with those new hours.  
  
I was getting enough sleep now, and it felt abnormal.  
  
Immediately my body felt strange, out of routine now after years of something different.  
  
With a slight smile, I noted that the sedan we always drove was still parked outside. That was a reassuring, comforting presence. It meant that Elliot was still inside, toiling away over a case. In my mind, I could practically picture the scene. His desk, still opposite mine, would be cluttered with files, papers, and God knows what else. Only I wouldn't be sitting across from him, my own desk nearly as messy as his.  
  
The door creaked open ahead of me, and I watched a tall, shadowy figure slip out.  
  
With a slight gasp, I realized it was Elliot.  
  
His face registered general surprise, as he walked down the gravel steps slowly. "Hey, Liv," he said softly. "I thought Cragen sent you home already."  
  
I shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. "I got bored at home, and decide to come back. That's not a problem, is it?"  
  
He shook his head quickly. "Course not."  
  
I pointed to his open wallet, smiling. "Going out for a late-night shopping spree?"  
  
He laughed, a warm rumble that sent shivers down my spine. "No, everyone wants coffee, and it's my turn to get it."  
  
"You're turning into quite the errand girl, Stabler."  
  
"Hey, you could either insult me all night or take a walk with me and help out."  
  
"Could I?"  
  
"I'm not refusing any help."  
  
I grinned, as he gently hit my shoulder. "Just like old times, right?"  
  
A shadow flickered across my face. "Old times...right."  
  
We started walking towards the dimly lit coffee vender nearby, stuffing our hands in coat pockets and watching our breath form clouds in the chilly air. An amicable silence sat between us, despite my original mission of coming down and confronting him.  
  
"How's Kathy," I asked. Mentally, I wanted to smack myself.  
  
"She and the kids are fine." He nudged. "Dickie asked about you the other day."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"You bet. He wanted to know when you were going to be my partner again."  
  
I glanced up, staring him straight in the eye. "You know," I replied shakily, "I never stopped being your partner. Riding a desk doesn't mean I'm not your best friend anymore."  
  
"I never said that, Liv."  
  
I reached for his hand, stopping in mid-step. "You and I have barely spoken at all in the past five years, ever since I got my test results back. Sometimes I ask myself, what ever happened to Benson and Stabler, the unstoppable tag-team that no perp could ever maneuver around? I can't answer that question, because we never talk anymore like we used to." His hand was warm in my own cold one. "I miss you."  
  
For a moment, I wasn't sure how he'd react to my words. I didn't want him to be angry—if anything, I wanted him to understand.  
  
Finally, he spoke.  
  
"It hurts to talk to you, Liv," he said quietly, his thumb running over my pale hand. "Your test results are a death sentence in my mind. Knowing that I'm going to lose you forever never leaves my mind."  
  
A strangled cry escaped from my throat. Runaway thoughts sped through my head, as his reaction both shocked me and remedied my need to know his take on my situation.  
  
That's what it was, nowadays, my situation. It was always about me, my terrible, tragic life, and how he fit into it.  
  
Elliot tried to smile, lamplight reflecting off the lines of his worn face. "Think of it this way. You'll be gone before I become a grandfather. Would you really want to see that?"  
  
"Elliot."  
  
He shrugged his words off. "You need to know where I'm coming from, Olivia."  
  
Olivia, not Liv. I winced internally at the formality in his voice.  
  
"Where are you coming from?"  
  
He let go of my hand abruptly, nearly speechless and staring at me with sad, blank eyes. "You've been my best friend for so long, that I can't even begin to imagine what SVU, or life itself, would be without you by my side."  
  
"You sound as if I'm your wife and on my deathbed."  
  
"You're my other half, Liv. We were the best example of how perfect a partners relationship could be."  
  
"You're talking in the past tense, Elliot."  
  
"That's because most of us is in the past."  
  
His words stung me, as I struggled to find some kind of comeback for his blunt statement.  
  
"We still work at the same department, at the same desks, with the same people. I'm not gone, yet."  
  
"Sometimes it's easier not seeing you, Liv. Cragen probably keeps me in the field and you at a desk so the separation would eventually get easier."  
  
"Separation? El, you're acting like I'm already dead."  
  
"You could be dead soon."  
  
"I'm not a walking time bomb."  
  
"You're sick, Liv."  
  
I took a furious step forward, his words barely registering in my mind. "So, you've been avoiding me all this time because you want my death to be easier on you?"  
  
"Would it be so bad if I said yes?"  
  
My voice remained caught, trapped, frozen in my throat. I wanted to scream and claw at my best friend, shaking into him that I'm not gone yet.  
  
Instead, all I could do was utter a weak, "Why?"  
  
"Why? You want to know why?"  
  
I nodded feebly, trying to keep my built-up tears from crashing down my face. His words seemed distant as he spoke them, echoing numbly through my body. "I don't want to get too close, Liv, because it'll hurt more when I do lose you."  
  
My voice trembled to respond. "You're one selfish bastard, Elliot Stabler. Did you ever even think about how I felt about this?"  
  
"I thought I was doing this for you, for us."  
  
"For me? You think that feeling as if my best friend hates me completely will really help in the long run?"  
  
Elliot's fist turned a numb shade of white, now discoloring from the intense pressure. I had really tested his limits now, apparently, and now I was afraid of the catasphtrophic reaction that could be set off because of it. His eyes flashed dangerously, and I wasn't dumb enough to push him further.  
  
But then again, I knew Elliot well enough to that he would never hurt me.  
  
"If I did anything wrong," he began slowly, breaking the tense silence, "It was putting too much space between us."  
  
A feeling of guilt seemed to spread like a veil over his face. His shoulders slouched, his body relaxed, and the fierceness in his eyes was gone.  
  
"If anything, Elliot, we should have become closer."  
  
I knew Elliot was probably sincere, when saying that he was only trying to think of me. But sometimes, he doesn't put everything into perspective. This was definitely one of those times.  
  
I wanted to believe that his actions were selfless and honorable, always in the interest of everyone. But this time I couldn't just believe that what Elliot had done was right. I couldn't protect my belief that whatever Elliot did was always justifiable. He wasn't a god who could do no wrong. He was human, and acted out of instinct.  
  
Maybe it was the wrong instinct, but it was still human nature.  
  
"Liv, just say something," Elliot whispered, cupping his hands around my porcelain face.  
  
But I was lost in my thoughts, trying to sway my subconscious in one way or another.  
  
"I'm sorry," he began repeating. "I'm so sorry."  
  
In my mind, I was telling him to stop apologizing, that it was okay, and I forgave him. However, some small, sadistic part of me wanted him to beg for my forgiveness. He hadn't suffered for five years as I had. He wasn't going through the pain that I had to deal with. I wanted him to know what it was like to be in my situation, wondering why his best friend refused to speak ton him.  
  
But seeing Elliot practically on his knees begging me to speak hurt the better part of me, and I reached up to touch his hands, still resting on my silent face. "Now you know what it's like, Elliot," I said softly. "You've been silent for five years, and I couldn't stand it either. You made me question myself every night, wondering what I had done to make you hate me."  
  
His hands were still warm against my freezing ones, as he broke into a weak smile and lowered our clasped hands. "I'm sorry, Liv."  
  
"You've apologized, we've suffered, so let's move on."  
  
"That seemed too easy. There's a catch, isn't there?"  
  
I grinned, for the first time tonight. "You're buying me coffee."  
  
He embraced me tightly, as I cradled my head between his scarfed neck and shoulder. Elliot held me close, clinging as if I'd disappear forever if he let go.  
  
"Everyone's probably wondering where you are, El." I laughed.  
  
"I'll just explain that I met up with a gorgeous woman, who just happens to be my best friend and partner, and got busy. It's all men back there-- they'll understand." He hooked his arm around my waist protectively, hanging on tightly.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"Keeping you close," he replied easily.  
  
I accepted his presence, leaning into his bulk gratefully, a small smile crossing my face. My mission had been a success, apparently. It felt more than good to be back in Elliot's arms again.  
  
In my mind, this entire conversation seemed surrealistic. It didn't seem possible that we could have rekindled our deep friendship with just one, late night and almost random conversation. Yet it seemed to have all fallen into place. It was ironic, in a sense, but I'm not going to dwell on details or technicalities.  
  
I finally had my best friend back, and I wasn't alone anymore.

----  
  
A/N: It's weird--this is the first O/E since Plunge Into Air. Guess I've been going off on an Alex/Munch and Casey tangent for a while. Also posted is a O/E drabble off the episode Risk, as prompted by Cabenson on the svufiction forums. I'm working on the prequel to Gypsy Girl, called Refusal. Thank you for all the feedback. Now review!  
  
Ava


End file.
